


Spear-Bearer

by Sineala



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Fuck Or Die, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca's disguise among the Epidii has several implications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spear-Bearer

**Author's Note:**

> For Trope Bingo, "fuck or die," although this is more or less a lead-up; no actual fucking occurs. Also this may have slid into movieverse characterization partway through.

Marcus looked up hurriedly at the sound of the leather apron at the doorway of the hut being pushed back; quickly he reached for his cap, drawing it down over the Mithras-brand on his forehead and-- "Oh. Esca. It's you."

In the shadowy half-light he could not quite see Esca properly, but there was something not all the way right in Esca's face. It was as if Esca was trying to smile at him and could not manage. He watched as Esca's fingers went to his hair, twitching, caught between pushing it back to expose his clipped ear and pulling it down to preserve all his secrets.

"Hail, Demetrius of Alexandria," said Esca, very quietly, and his mouth quirked again. His face was pale.

"Hail, spear-bearer," Marcus returned, and the address amused him so much that he continued. "It does seem a little odd that the great Demetrius of Alexandria needs a spear-bearer, doesn't it?" It was... well, it was such a British thing.

But Esca only hung his head and looked miserable. More miserable. "Perhaps."

"Not that I mind your presence," he said, hastily, as the thought came to him that perhaps Esca believed he had meant it that way. "Not at all. You know you are my true friend, Esca, and I am glad you came with me; you must know that. I only meant that our disguises are strange, in company with each other."

"It is--" began Esca, and then he sat on the ground, hard, almost a fall. He was not looking at Marcus. "About that. I was talking with some of the warriors just now, and-- and--"

"And?" Marcus prompted.

Esca's face was still turned away. "They were asking how I had come to be your spear-bearer."

It would be useful, a corner of Marcus' mind noted, to know what Esca had said. They needed to be able to tell the same tale. "And you told them...?"

But Esca did not answer this question.

"There were jokes. That they made," Esca said, red blossoming across his face, his eyes shut. What in the world was he ashamed of?

"Jokes?"

"By the Light of the Sun!" Esca snapped, the shame all turned to fury. "Must I write it out for you? What kinds of jokes do you think drunken louts make about other men's spears?"

Oh. _Oh_. Those kinds of jokes.

"So," Marcus said, dizzily, feeling as if someone else were speaking through his mouth, some perverse and obscene Oracle, "then what happened?"

Esca lifted his head high. "I may have intimated that we were... particular friends. And if you say you do not understand that, Marcus Aquila, you are the greatest liar I have ever met. I know you were in the army, and I know that soldiers--"

He did not want to know how Esca was about to finish that sentence.

"Of course I've heard of that," he interrupted. "Seen it, occasionally. Done it myself, no." The words tumbled out of him in a great rush. Esca had not needed to know that about him.

Esca was silent for a long while, and then, very slowly, he held out his hand. Did he want Marcus to hold his hand? Could he, when they were talking about this?

Esca dropped his hand. Perhaps it had not been what he wanted, after all. Marcus had been too late. He should have taken it. He could have-- they could have--

"Yes, well." Esca's tone was desert-dry. "I should inform you that they expect that you have, and we are. Which is much more believable than anything else they might conclude about our friendship."

He felt as though he had been struck in the chest, all breath and sense gone. "So tomorrow morning they'd like to see us staggering out of here looking well-fucked? Or they'll be suspicious?"

Esca gave a little start; Marcus hardly ever talked like a soldier around him, but if any situation needed the word, it was this one.

"Essentially." Esca's voice was hesitant. "Marcus, I am sorry--"

He held up a hand, and Esca fell silent. "Shh," he said. "Besides, I am Demetrius, aren't I?"

At that, Esca did chuckle. "So you are. Demetrius. My apologies." But his nervous gaze still darted about the hut, refusing to settle on anything. On Marcus.

Marcus stood, and beckoned Esca up with him; giving him a confused glance, Esca went.

"Good," Marcus said, low and reassuring, in a voice he hadn't known he had. "Tilt your head back, eh?"

Without asking why, without complaining, Esca did. Instantly. The trust filled him with pleasure, hot and bright, as Esca lifted his head, baring his pale neck. Esca was only a little taller than he, but the angle was awkward to achieve without help.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he stepped close and kissed Esca's throat, hard. Esca made a small startled noise against him; under Marcus' lips his pulse beat faster, and Marcus bit him, bruised him, then stood back to see what he'd done.

Esca put a hand to his throat. His eyes were wide and dark. "Marcus, what--?"

"We have to look it," Marcus said softly. "You know we have to look it. You said so yourself."

Esca was trembling. "What about-- what about more than looking?"

He wanted it. Esca wanted it. What could stop them? What should?

"That can be arranged," Marcus said, greatly daring, and then added the rest. "Spear-bearer."

Esca laughed and laughed and pulled Marcus into his arms.


End file.
